A Rose to my Pureblood Soul
by ordinary-geek
Summary: Being Scorpius Malfoy is hard for him - the name embarrasses and annoys him to the bone - just because his father did a stupid doing, he has to pay for it. Though everything changes for young Scorpius - on his fifth year at Hogwarts - and for once, he might be able to be happy. As complicated as it is, Malfoy falls for a Weasely above all and the fight for love has just began.


_Scorpius Malfoy PoV_

* * *

My blonde hair was pain; it was too blood and too straight. I fixed my shirt and my robe, the stuff clang to me like a gecko. It was itchy; I never liked how the Hogwarts robes felt on me. I never liked having my mother's light blue eyes, and her curls and twirls. I never liked how I was as pale as the winter's sun. I never liked how I blushed at the slightest embarrassing thing. I never liked how I had to move from my home, to go to this stupid school, and learn stupid magic. I never liked any of it. I never liked my pureblood way, and how I acted like the most selfish person in the world. I never liked how reacted in disgust as I met yet another mud blood. I never liked how my father stared at me weirdly, as I walked away from him at Platform 9/3. I never liked how my mother never let me go until the very end, and hated - repeat, hated – how my father never ever said goodbye to his son. I was his son, I am Scorpius Malfoy.

This is my fifth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. This is my fifth year in the very same carriage as the last, in the very same steam engine train, going to the very same place. I am a pureblood, I get bored at the very same things, if I see it more than twice, the shock goes out the window, and the boredom sets in. I see many things in my life though; I see magic, wonder and all that surprisingly beautiful stuff. My father doesn't think so, though he is a grumpy man, that has made some bad decisions during his day at Hogwarts. It is also why I do not have many friends, because of him and my pureblood manner. The usual journey to the castle is just a few hours without any end. My carriage contains four people, all fifth years like me, and all ways the same people every year. The boy next to me is Ted Remus Lupin, but people call him, "Teddy". He is a half blood, but not half wizard-half human; I heard that he was half wizard-half Metamorphmagus. A Metamorphmagus – of which – is a witch or wizard with has the ability to change his or her physical appearance at will, rather than requiring Polyjuice Potion or a spell like the rest of the wizarding population. They are extremely rare. Like his deceased – rest in peace – mother, he can change his hair color – which he usually does to get the girls – and shape shift when needed. I do not know what his natural color of his hair is, nor do I know his eye color either.

His hair is usually a blue-green-purple color on the train to Hogwarts, and when he gets off the train, it usually a red-gold color. His hair is straight though, and covered his right eye and most of his cheek. I could see his left eye, from my angle, and it was more orange than yellowish color. His head was down, reading his book, scanning the pages fast, and flipping them over to reveal yet another Polyjuice Potion recipe. "If you have something to say, Malfoy, spit it out," Teddy looked over to me, his eyes flickering in the candle light of the carriage. I look down at him; he wasn't wearing his Ravenclaw cloak. His face was natural to me, his cheeks pale but had a slight blush to them, and his eyes were wide and colorful as they change to a bright pink. He was so familiar, well, after all, he was my second cousin.

"You two look like you are going to snog," A voice says, interrupting my eyes scanning Teddy. I look over; to see where the voice had came from. I see the smirking face of Albus Severus Potter, (more commonly known as "Al") staring back me with his bright green-blue eyes. His straight dark hair that he had last year, have turned into slight curls over his ears and hiding the back of his neck. He was sitting next to his oldest brother, James Sirius Potter, who wasn't very interested on what we had to say. He was older than us you see, he was stuck in his books and in his magic. He wanted grades, apparently, and so he worked on his work, and ignored us murmuring in the background. James' hair was lighter than Al's, a more red-brown if you ask me. His hair was curlier than anyone else I have seen, but it was cut short, in a professional hairstyle, to hide some of those outrageous curly curls.

My father had always hated the Potter family for very long time, throughout his school years. I could see why, they were sharp, rich – not as rich as me but rich, smart, they had courage, they were powerful, and they had their reputation, because of their father. Mostly they were stuck up and didn't want to talk about their father's tales of terror – about Voldemolt, but I have heard them. I know what he had done, he saved us all. Even me, whom am a selfish pureblood that has a reputation for not helping, everyone knew the story of Harry James Potter, the chosen one, everyone talked about in classes at school. Even the teachers, they taught us what had happened in the second Wizarding War and why it happened. And they reminded us after every holiday, that there is always dark danger out there, waiting to happen, especially Headmaster Longbottom. Sometimes the Headmaster would invite auror Mr. Potter to come and talk to the school about 'who-must-not-be-named' and why you should learn as much spells as you can. But I liked the Potters, even though they are more superior to me, they always brought a laugh to the table. Well, Albus did.

"Are you jealous, Potter?" I asked Albus, which made everyone laugh, even James.

Many hours later, we arrived at Hogsmeade Station, to make our way to the castle. We grabbed our luggage; all dressed in our robes, and made our way through the train to the exit. I was the last one out of the carriage, after Teddy. I turned off the light of candles with a simple clap, and dragged my heavy chest of clothes, and my owl to the exit of the train. It was night now, and the stars were shining in the sky, as I made my way down the train steps to the platform. I sigh, the air smells fresh, magical even, but that was expected. I placed my luggage in a cotton Santa like sack – that was blue – and was normally picked up by a Thestral. A Thestral – if you do not know already – is a breed of winged horses with a skeletal body, face with reptilian features, and wide, leathery wings that resemble a bat's. They fly our bits and pieces over to the castle where the stuff teleport them to our rooms or dorms. We then lined up in silence to wait for a professor to show up and take us to the gate of the castle. I waited there in silence, having my arms crossed over my chest, shivering. The wind was drifty; it was cold one minute, then hot, then warm, then freezing, then just cold again. It was confusing, I know. Everyone was in their little groups after a while, the professor still not showing up. My patience was tested yet again, I sigh. I finally just give up, they have obviously forgotten about me, or us.

* * *

Everyone was sitting down on the ground after maybe an hour, they didn't really care, and they were missing out on work. Usually on the first two days, we didn't have work anyways; we just catch up on everything and everyone. I might as well sit down, and then as I decided to, someone suddenly bumps my shoulder. I twist around, trying to relieve my stance, I blink. "I'm so sorry!" A voice cries. I look over at the pale face, blue eyes shaking in embarrassment. Her red-orange hair was tied in a tight ponytail, with strands of hair flowing out of it, at the front. Rose Weasley. Her eyebrows were cross with concern, and then I smiled at her.

"Its fine," I told her, and then she smiled slightly. She was holding on to her books for dear life, like they were going to fall out of her small hands any second. "Here," I grab some of the books that were and the top and hold them for her, her smile widened.

"Thank you, Scorpius." She said politely in a lower voice, her blue eyes brightly sparkled now, like the moon was lighting them with its beauty. I nod at her, telling her it is no problem, like I would help anytime, I do not mind. She frowns again, "I shouldn't be so clumsy."

"Yeah, maybe that will be a good idea," I laugh, but she here eyes turns said and look away from my eyes. She was small, a delicate person, like if I hugged her right now, to tell everything is ok, and she would probably brake. So I hesitate. I estimated that I was a head and half taller than her, but I was close to her, and that's all that mattered right now. _She's a half blood, _my thoughts told me, and I told it back, _I don't care. _I place one hand on her shoulder, and she looks up at me, "I'm joking, it is alright, Rose, honestly. I'll probably just have a big bruise on my shoulder for a while." I smirked, and she laughs through her frown.

"Rosie!" A voice yelled out, corrupting her laugh, she looks over and waves. I follow her gaze, I see Lily Luna Potter, Rose's youngest cousin of the Potter family. Lily is waving at her, telling to come over to her brothers and sisters. Her short hair dangling above her shoulders and had a small black clip is moving her fringe out of her face. Lily uses 'Rosie' as her Rose's sort of nickname – like everyone else of her friends and family. Rose looks back at me, and smiles again. I smile back. "Rosie!" Lily cried again, and then Rose sighed. She gestured to Lily that she will be one second, and adjusts her stance like she is going to walk away soon.

"I guess this 'goodbye' then?" I ask her.

She nods, having sad eyes, "I'm afraid so," she told me.

"Here then," I grouch, I didn't want her to go, but she had to. She had to see her family, and I guess she didn't want to be seen with pureblood like me, anyways. I place her heavy books one top of the book she was carrying in her arms, they instantly drop from the weight. I blink away from her emotionless face, still looking at me.

"Scorpius…" She says like she is going to say something touching like, 'I wish I could stay,' or 'we will catch up some time, ok?' But she sighs, like she can't say that to me, because she knows it isn't true. Instead she reaches up to me, on her tippy-toes, slaying side to side, like she can't hold her balance. I lightly hold her waist, but I was confused of what she was about to do. Then her warm lips lightly brush mine for just a second, and she backed down to her normal height. I still hold her waist, and look down at her with blushed cheeks, "thank you." She told me again, but this time I don't hesitate, I grab her with my two arms and big her in. Her books poke into my chest, but I don't care. People are murmuring, 'what are they doing?' and 'wow,' all around us, but I don't care. She was warm, and she made me feel warm, for once in my life, I wasn't bored, I wasn't disappointed, I wasn't expecting any of this, it was new, and I think it will always be new. I let go of her, after a few longing minutes. Her hair fuzzy on the top, where my chin laid and her cheek flustered from the surprising thing I have done. "I have to go," she whispers. I nod, and I finally letting her go. And as she walks away, I smile, and hope for the best between her and me. People stare at Rose, as she walked past, and her family gave me looks of surprise, I winked at them – like saying to them, 'hah, didn't see that coming, now did you?' – And turned away.

* * *

The Professor _finally _arrived, to pick us, up and walk us through the gates. As usual, there was aurors there, to check our bags, and luggage. Then, we take the carriages or carts that take us to the castle. These are dragged by a Thestral. I walk up to one of the carts, with the same people that were in my train carriage. I normally went on the boats, but this is my second year going on cart, so I haven't gotten bored yet. I see the Thestral, but that is only because my mother died last year, and you only see them, if you have seen death. Thestral's have quite a disturbing appearance, something about them that were sinister and spooky to other people. I personally think that they are beautiful, gentle creatures that are misunderstood. They are big and horse like creatures, with bony figures and bat like wings. They have dragon-like facial features and they face color is plain white, which is decorated by glittering eyes that lack both expression and pupils. We hop on to the cart, others think that the carriage pulls itself, like always, but know the truth.

It is a big ride, up the hill, and across the bridge of the lake. So I watched my surroundings go by. No one really talks to me; they just are and ponder at my face. Especially Albus and James, they stared at me for the whole way to the castle. I, however, watched the forbidden forest go past. I didn't see much, the cart went past too quick. I only saw Buckbeak, the school's Hippogriff, some people call him Witherwings, but that name was only to deceive the ministry in 1996, Hagrid the school Gamekeeper keeps getting confused with the Hippogriff's name. I call him Buckbeak, I like that name much more than Witherwings. Plus it suits him and his kindness and respect and his affection. My father told me that he was a pain of a creature, and actually nearly torn off his arm once, but I don't see that. Maybe father deserved it, which made me smile. I don't like my father much, that grumpy old man. We make it up the hill and now we cross the rickety bridge. I watch underneath us, the soft tranquil water was a night navy blue, reflecting off the night's sky. The sound of the light waves, calmed me, and made me feel at peace.

The loud cart rode over the bridge, the Thestral, trotting its hooves on the time planks, and we finally entered the huge walls of Hogwarts, into the courtyard of the first level. The Thestral walked around the fountain to park. The entrance was dimmed and was decorated by small goblin-like statues. They were like cameras – they looked like they were watching our every move. I got out of the cart last as well, stumbling down the invisible steps. From a distance I saw Rose, getting helped down by Nearly Headless Nick– she being in Gryffindor and all. Our house ghost was, The Bloody Baron – being in Slytherin and all – he didn't help us at all, he just watched us be clumsy with our feet and laugh. Rose nodded a 'thank you' to Nearly Headless Nick, and Nick replied with a bow of his shoulders.

She walked past the Hufflepuff House Ghost, the Fat Friar as she gathered with her Hufflepuff friends, to say 'hello'. I watch her as I stood there by myself, I couldn't see any of my friends, and I was alone. I watched her, her long red hair was now out of her tight ponytail, and danced near her waist. She laughed from the distance; someone must have said something funny. Her smile bright, she hugged a few more friends, and said a polite 'hello' to the Ravenclaw House Ghost, Helena Ravenclaw, but I just call her the Grey Lady. Helena bowed as well to her, and Rose smiled.

I watched her eyes dance in wonder, like every year she arrived at the entrance of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I wish I could be like that, just come somewhere, that I have been many times before, and still look at the bits and piece that made it magical, that made me feel magical. But as I looked up at the great castle, all I saw was a castle, a pile of brick and wood. I looked back at her, and I realized she was looking at me. Her eyes blinked, and her watery eyes – it was a dazzling blue – shone like the evening star on Christmas Eve. She smiled, a bright smile, with her lips stretching across her pale petite face, even though I was far away from her, I knew she was looking at me. I smile awkwardly, making one side of my mouth raised up in a smirk. My blonde hair started to wave it my face – I stopped using gel for years now, I hated gel – in soft little curls. They were thin loops that layered over my eyes but I could still see her. "Oi," Someone snapped in front of my eyes with their fingers, I looked over to see, Hugo Weasley, one of my best mates. "And welcome back to the world where staring-at-my-sister is forbidden," He smiled at me, his curly red hair hiding his eyebrows. He was the same height as me, though he was two or three year's young than me. But the age I didn't count on, his sarcastic personality and his understanding of 'older people stuff', make me believe he is my age, mentally. He could pass a fifth grader as well, if he wasn't always in trouble, the whole stuff of Hogwarts knows who he is, and what he does. I guess that is what you get for being a Weasley.

They're cheeky, and sneaky, funny, and witty. He got that jean for sure, but Hugo always believed that Rose got the smart jean, from you know, her mother. Hermione Granger is a well know Politian at the Minstery of Magic, everyone votes for her to be the Minister every year, but she either turns it down or the Parliament's say they can't have a female Minister that year. She is also muggleborn, but she was the best of her year. And now, it was Rose's turn.

* * *

So yes, I was best friends with the brother of the girl that just kissed me, but he doesn't make it obvious that he knows. He will wait until we are alone, so he can tackle me to death. I smile at him, his blue eyes like his sisters, but they were more serious – like tiny tiger trying to catch their first prey. "Hey Hue," I say his nickname, because I know that his weak spot, and I couldn't be bother saying his full name, 'Hugo' right now, because I'd probably break in to a squeaky voice, playing guilty. I didn't want that.

He looks at me for a while, and sorted through his back pack that he had on, in silence. I was best friends with him, but our parent hardly knew that we were until, Hugo blabbed this summer. I don't think it ended well for him, but he wrote to me still, and he told me that. It wasn't his mother that got that angry. It was his father, Ronald – or he says Ron. But eventually, he will come around, or murder me in my sleep for messing with his only son's friendship choices. Hugo 'apparently' doesn't care, he wants to make his own friends, make his own memories, not to be stuck in his father's. Which I totally understand, his father probably only hates me because of my father, Draco. Because my father went to the school with his, and let just say, well they weren't the best of mates. Ok, they hated each other, but me and Hugo are mates, and that's how it's going to stay, well until Hugo kills me for his sister kissing me – and I let her.

After a while, we enter the Great Hall in lines of four. Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw, Slytherin. We all then sit down and listen to Headmaster Longbottom announce the first years into the Hall, to be sorted into their house. After they are all sorted alphabetically, the Headmaster summons the food, with a simple snap of his fingers. There is all this different types of food, chicken, lamb chops, chips, carrot, salads, pork, sausages, lasagna, and sweets. Everything a growing child and teenager of any world – muggle or wizard – would love to eat. We dig in, after the Headmaster says, "Let the feast," he takes in a huge breathe… "Begin!" Everyone's hands rush to pick up the food, and bring it back to their plates and start digging into our food. I sit at my house table, next to some loony eleventh grades doing some prank spells. Everyone chatter away, I can hear laughs and weird conversations around the long golden tables. The staff or Professors of the castle take a seat and sit with the Headmaster, up the stairs. They sit in order to less important to more important on the right of the Headmaster, and the more important to the less important to the left of the Headmaster.

Even everyone finishes their food; Headmaster Longbottom silences the students to give some reminders. The reminders included; the Headmaster critically analyzing and discussing the incoming staff, reminding of rules and new students. "Welcome, welcome to a new year at Hogwarts." Headmaster greeted his usual greeting. He raised his arms over his head, like he was cheering; his long robs showing the skin of his arms. Headmaster was long for his age, younger that the previous Headmasters of this school, for sure. Headmaster Longbottom looked like he was close to his late thirties to early forties – though he was getting his white hairs on his beard. His moved his arms down, and crossed his hands over his standing lap. His face was cheerful – he was always happy. "We have to new changes of staffing this year," he says.

* * *

_to be continued... maybe_


End file.
